


Interludes & Outtakes

by weethreequarter



Series: How to Build a Family [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Fantastic Four, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Families of Choice, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Iron Man 2, Kid Fic, Missing Scenes, Parent Steve Rogers, Parent Tony Stark, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2019-11-27 02:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18188702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weethreequarter/pseuds/weethreequarter
Summary: Scenes that didn't make it to the final draft, pieces that there just wasn't room for, and alternate versions.





	1. Interlude 1: Ghosts

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place two years after the end of Whistle in the Dark. The events of Winter Soldier happened pretty much as it did in the film, except for the end, which is explained below. Originally, this was the prologue of Parallel Lives (which begins on Sunday), but then I changed it completely (again) and this just didn't make the cut. However, it is an important filler scene before Parallel Lives begins, so here it is.

****When Steve woke, he had no idea where he was. Or if he was even alive. The last thing he remembered was blacking out as he hit the water, Bucky’s horrified face still above him. He’d certainly expected to die. But it looked like he hadn’t. Again.

It was some sort of warehouse, long since abandoned, or a factory perhaps? Yes, there was some dilapidated machinery at the other end of the room, rusted beyond recognition thanks to the rain that must fall through the rather large gaping holes in the roof. Traces of plants and vegetation fought for life between broken bricks and windows, as nature fought to reclaim the building. Steve shifted to improve his view; instantly sharp pain flooded his body, like he was being stabbed by innumerable needles. Freezing, he hissed, muttering a few choice swear words before carefully leaning back against the wall he’d been slumped against. Limiting himself to the barest movement of his neck, he glanced around, spotting his shield propped up against the wall nearby. But there were no other signs of life, or how he’d ended up here when, by all accounts, he should be either dead or in a hospital. He explored his torso gingerly, wincing when his investigations elicited more piercing pain, although he didn’t feel any breaks. His head pounded, and there was a cut on one side of his mouth that stung whenever he moved his lips, the dried blood cracking painfully. All in all, he’d been better.

Suddenly he froze; there were footsteps approaching, and given that in the past few days almost everyone he knew and trusted had tried to kill him, Steve felt he had a right to be wary. Ignoring his screaming muscles, he tensed, ready to at least attempt to fight if necessary. But then the owner of the footsteps emerged and he deflated.

“Bucky,” he sighed.

“Don’t call me that,” his old friend snapped, unable to look at him fully. He’d lost some of his battle gear and gained a baseball cap, and held a carrier bag in his flesh hand. 

“Then what do you want me to call you?” Steve asked softly.

“I don’t know,” Bucky muttered.

“You’ll always be Bucky to me,” Steve smiled. Bucky hesitated, before dropping the bag with a _clunk_. Steve watched his movements carefully, searching them for some clue, some hint, that the old Bucky was in there. He watched Bucky cross to the windows on the other side. Then he returned to the abandoned bag and pulled out a bottle of water. Bucky tentatively held it out to Steve. “Thanks.”

Steve raised the bottle to his lips, wincing again as the action jarred his ribs. Bucky frowned.

“I, uh, I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I hurt you.”

“I forgive you,” Steve hissed, ignoring the pain to take a large gulp of water. “I may, however, need some medical attention.”

Panic flared across Bucky’s features. His eyes darted around the room, and he stumbled backwards. Steve watched anxiously, afraid Bucky was about to disappear again. He prepared himself for the agonising action of hauling himself to his feet, ready to throw himself into his friend to stop him from running if need be. But Bucky took a few ragged breaths and seemed to calm himself. After a moment, he crossed to Steve’s side and dropped a disposable cell phone into his lap.

“You can call someone to come help,” he ordered. “One person. Only one. Any more and I’ll… I’ll…”

“Okay,” Steve agreed. “Okay Bucky.”

To his relief, Bucky didn’t argue the use of the nickname this time. Although he still looked a little shaky, he simply nodded, then walked away, detouring by the bag for a pack of chips before perching himself by the windows. Steve picked up the phone, wondering who he should call, until he realised there was no contest. There was only one person he wanted to see, conveniently also the team’s resident first aid expert. He dialled the number, pressing the phone to his ear, aware of Bucky’s eyes on him the entire time. Finally the line picked up.

“Who are you and how did you get this number?”

Steve grinned in relief at the familiar indignation, before pulling himself together.

“Don’t react,” Steve ordered. “Pretend you’re talking to someone else.”

“Oh, hey man,” Tony replied casually. “I must’ve forgotten to add your new number. So what’s up?”

“I’m okay,” Steve replied. “Well, I’ll live. Listen, are you and the twins okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s going great at our end,” Tony assured him. “All on target. How are things at your end?”

“I need your first aid skills,” Steve explained. “I’m going to give you an address, and I need you to come help me.”

“Sure, fire away.”

“Tony, listen. You have to come alone, okay? No authorities, no Avengers, no Fury.”

“I thought that particular project was a dead end?”

“No, he’s alive. Tony, promise me.”

“You have my word.”

X

Tony stepped into the abandoned factory at the address Steve had given him warily. He didn’t like this. Natasha and some guy named Sam had been frantically trying to track Steve down, babbling down the phone to him about some assassin called the Winter Soldier and Hydra and SHIELD.

Then came Steve’s cryptic phone call requesting medical assistance in what appeared to be an old clothing factory. Bearing in mind Steve’s warning about not sneaking up on them, he stepped inside the door and yelled, “Hey Steve?”

“Tony? Upstairs,” Steve’s voice replied, sounding a little wheezy.

Tony found a staircase, climbing to the first floor. He stopped into the main manufacturing space and ended up with a gun in his face.

He quirked an eyebrow.

The gunman had long dark hair and heavy shadows under the eyes, which regarded Tony suspiciously.  Turning away from him, Tony spotted Steve against the far wall.

“Hi,” he greeted. “Who’s your friend?”

Steve chuckled, wincing.

“You alone?”

“Yup,” Tony nodded. “Been looking for an excuse to test the stealth mode in the new quinjet. You look like hell Cap."

“Feel like it too.”

“Is your bodyguard going to shoot me in the head if I come lend a hand?”

“Bucky, let him in,” Steve instructed.

Bucky? Now that was interesting. The gun lowered and Tony flashed him a smile, before crossing to Steve’s side. Up close the super-soldier looked even worse. 

“That is one hell of a shiner,” Tony commented, skimming his fingers around the edge of Steve’s black eye. “Somebody really did a number on you.”

Steve’s eyes flickered towards Bucky. _Very interesting._

“What’s the damage then?” Tony asked.

“I think my ribs are pretty badly bruised,” Steve replied. “No breaks as far as I can tell, but they hurt like a bitch.”

Tony pulled out his portable scanner - something designed after Natasha broke her wrist last year days after he and Johnny binged on Star Trek TOS - and ran it over Steve’s torso.

“Yeah,” he said, checking the results. “Looks like you’re right Steve. No breaks. You want something for the pain?”

Steve shook his head. 

“You know they have little to no effect on me.”

“Well, I’ve got an ice pack if you want it?” Tony offered.

“Sure,” Steve nodded. Tony helped him sit forward, then quickly removed the jacket of Steve’s suit until he was left in his undershirt, and leaned him back against the wall. Then Tony retrieved an iceberg from his bag, wrapping it around Steve’s chest.

“Good thing you don’t mind the cold,” Tony smirked.

“Yeah, I’m having a blast,” Steve retorted.

“That cut by your mouth looks nasty took,” Tony noted. “I’m gonna clean it up then stick a few butterfly stitches on it. Okay?”

“Do your worst,” Steve smiled.

Tony sat back, pulling out a bottle of antiseptic fluid and cotton wool. He glanced over his shoulder to where Bucky eyed them suspiciously from his perch.

“So,” Tony murmured. “He’s alive, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. 

“How’d that happen?”

“Hydra,” Steve replied. “They wiped his memories and used him as an assassin.”

“The Winter Soldier.”

“Yeah,” Steve frowned. “How’d you know?”

“Natasha mentioned it in the panicked stream of consciousness I got on the phone.”

“Is she okay?” Steve asked.

“Worried about you, but fine. So’s, uh, Sam?”

“Good,” Steve nodded. 

“Okay, hold still,” Tony instructed. He carefully removed the dried blood from the cut, before swiping it with antiseptic. Steve grimaced. Tony tried to work as quickly as possible, sticking four small butterfly stitches to the cut. “Et voila,” he announced. “You’ll be as good as new.”

“Thanks Tony,” Steve smiled.

“Now, are you going to let me take a look at that cut on your forehead?” Tony called, making Bucky jump. Bucky’s eyes jumped to Steve’s. Steve nodded reassuringly.

“Are you a doctor?” Bucky asked.

“Yes and no,” Tony replied, getting to his feet. “Medical doctor? No. But I’m a father, which means I’ve treated more grazed knees than I have masters degrees. Now get your ass over here and I can drool over that _spectacular_ arm of yours while I patch you up.”

Bucky still appeared hesitant, but he inched forward, perching on the corner of a chunk of wood. Tony closed the distance between them, inspecting the wound carefully. By sitting, it enabled Tony to see better, however Steve was aware that giving Tony the height advantage was a difficult concession for Bucky to make. He only hoped Tony wouldn’t take too long.

“Seriously though, that arm, that is some cool looking piece of tech,” Tony continued. “I’ve messed around with prosthetics before, but nothing like that. Does it have wifi? I feel like it should have wifi. If it doesn’t you should think about adding wifi. That would be cool, right Steve?”

“I’ll take your words for it,” Steve smiled.

Bucky hissed as Tony swiped the graze with antiseptic fluid. 

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Tony snapped.

“It hurts,” Bucky growled.

“Ah, memories…” Tony sighed. “This takes me back. Sue always complained too. Course, she was nine, not a big bad assassin like you. And I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told her then, and that I tell Johnny every time he comes off his bike: it’ll hurt more if I don’t clean it out.”

“Who’s Sue? And Johnny?” Bucky asked.

“Our children,” Steve replied. Tony smiled to himself. Steve explained, “It’s a long story, but the short version is I’m their biological father, but Tony adopted and raised them. Then I met them for the first time two years ago.”

“There,” Tony announced. “All done. Now, not to be a party pooper, cause this has been _great_ fun, but, uh, what happens now? Are we allowed to leave or what?”

It physically pained Steve to watch Bucky flounder. He’d always been the confident one, so self assured, with an answer for everything. And now, quite simply, he was lost.

“Ball’s in your court, Buck,” Steve said softly.

“Well, I’m not leaving him,” Tony declared, nodding at Steve. “Aforementioned children and all.”

“I’m not leaving Bucky,” Steve added quickly.

“And checkmate,” Tony sighed.

“Couldn’t we… take him with us?” Steve suggested. Tony gaped at him. Then he turned back and forth between Steve and Bucky in disbelief.

“You shitting me, Rogers?”

“Why not?”

“Why? Apart from the part where he’s an assassin?”

“You invited a terrorist round two Christmases ago,” Steve reminded him.

“Yeah, and look how well that turned out,” Tony snorted. “I learned from my mistakes. Looks like you decided to copy them.”

“Tony, he needs help.”

“Fine. Help him. Just do it somewhere he won’t hurt the twins.”

They stared each other down. Steve knew Tony had a point, but he refused to believe Bucky would hurt Sue or Johnny, despite the rather damning evidence to the contrary upon his body. Tony sighed.

“What if…” he began. “There’s this penthouse I own. It was my dad’s, my aunt - well, she’s not my aunt, but I’ve always called her that - lived there until a couple years ago when she had to move into a home. It’s just lying empty. What if we took him there? It’s a few blocks from the Tower.”

“Bucky?” Steve said. “How does that sound to you? You’d have your own space, but I’d only be a phone-call away if you need anything.”

“I can’t… I won’t hurt anyone there?” Bucky muttered.

“The apartment takes up the whole floor,” Tony explained. “It has a private secure access elevator, so you’d never have to see any of the other residents.”

Bucky fell silent, his mind clearly turning the proposal over carefully, studying it from all angles. Tony glanced questioningly at Steve, but Steve held out a placating hand. When was the last time Bucky had free will? He needed time to come to the decision on his own.

“Okay,” Bucky nodded eventually.

X

Dust tickled Steve’s nose. He bit back a sneeze, knowing from bitter experience, that with bruised ribs it would not be a pleasant experience. Tony had tried to convince him to stay at the Tower when they’d landed, but Steve insisted on accompanying him and Bucky to the penthouse, both for Bucky’s peace of mind and Steve’s own. Thanks to JARVIS’ assistance, they were able to make it from the quintet landing pad down to the garage undetected. Mindful of Steve’s injuries, Tony held back from his usual breakneck speed - always a feat in itself in Manhattan traffic - driving the few blocks downtown, whipping the car into an underground garage. He’d led them over to the elevator’s, explaining that the left hand elevator was exclusively for the penthouse’s use and could only be activated by a swipe card of which there were three: two he handed to Steve and Bucky respectively, one he retained for himself.

Beside him, Bucky sneezed, the dust obviously affecting him too. Tony shrugged sheepishly.

“This place hasn’t been touched since aunt Angie when into a home a few years back,” he explained.

“Aunt Angie?” Steve asked.

“Yeah. Old friend of my dad’s,” Tony replied. “She lived here her whole life.”

He didn’t mention how every time he’d run away from home, this was his first stop. Angie shared the same place in his heart that Jarvis and Ana had; a place for the family by bond rather than blood. She was the one who always convinced him to go home again. Some of Tony’s happiest memories involving his father also involved Angie. When she was around, she could pull out the remnants of the man Steve knew from the emotionless figure Tony lived with. She could make him laugh in a way Tony could only dream of.

“Well go on then,” Tony said to Bucky, making the soldier jump. “Explore. See if it meets your satisfaction.”

Bucky drifted off. Tony leaned against a table, Steve gingerly joining him. 

“So, who was she? If she wasn’t really your aunt. She must’ve been more than just a friend for Howard to give her a place to live her entire life,” Steve enquired.

“I don’t actually know how they met,” Tony replied. “She was just always there. She was an actress, great one actually. I should visit her again, she hasn’t seen the twins in a while.”

“Thanks Tony,” Steve said. 

“For what?”

“Not insisting we take Bucky in. Compromising, I guess.”

Tony was silent.

“It means a lot to you,” he said eventually. “He means a lot to you.” He shrugged. “That makes it important to me.”

Steve smiled at him.

“Because of the twins,” Tony added quickly.

“Sure,” Steve smirked.

“What else could I mean?” Tony bluffed.

“Who exactly are you trying to fool, Stark?” Steve teased.

“Hey, look, Terminator’s back,” Tony announced, changing the subject, nodding towards Bucky at the other end of the hall. “So, Schwarzenegger, does it meet your approval?”

Bucky nodded.

“Right. Here’s a hundred bucks,” Tony continued, pulling out the cash from his wallet. “Don’t spend it all at once, and don’t spend it all on sweets. There’s a convenience store on the corner, or if you’re feeling adventurous there’s a good Chinese and Italian down the block. I’ve gotta take Stars’n’Stripes here home now, before Tasha kills me.”

“We’ll be back tomorrow,” Steve added. He stepped forward then, moving slowly to allow his friend time to move away if he wanted, wrapped his arms around Bucky in a hug. “Welcome home jerk,” he whispered.

“Punk,” Bucky replied and Steve smiled.


	2. Outtake 1: Fractures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cut scene from Parallel Lives Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally part of Chapter 5 of Parallel Lives. It got cut, as did the whole project idea, but I liked Johnny in this scene, so I decided to share it. Spoilers for the first few chapters of Parallel Lives.

****“Urgh,” Johnny groaned, face-planting onto the desk.

“And hello to you too,” Michelle replied without looking up from her book. Johnny rolled his head to the side so he could squint up at her. Then poked her in the ribs, because he was a child and she wasn’t paying him attention. Before he could do it for a second time, she caught her hand and bent back his finger. All without looking up.

“Ow, ow, ow! Okay, I’m sorry!” he hissed.

“What’s up with you anyway?” Michelle asked, finally putting down the book.

“My night sucked.”

“I thought you had the party? It looked like you had fun in the photos.”

“Yeah. That was before someone hacked in, disabled JARVIS, and triggered the Winter Soldier,” he replied. “Then it pretty much sucked.”

“Is everybody okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Well, Bucky might not be. I don’t know. Can you pet my hair?” he asked.

Michelle sighed and rolled her eyes, but she began to catch his head like he was a cat. Johnny smiled.

“Thank you.”

From the corner of the eye not mashed against the table, Johnny saw Peter and Ned enter the classroom and raised his hand in a wave. Peter managed to give him a half smile and waved back before they took their seats, and Johnny realised guiltily that in all the chaos, he’d forgotten to check that Peter got to sleep last night.

“Alright everyone, settle down,” Mrs Winterhalter called. “Mr Stark, time to wake up now.”

“I’m up,” Johnny called, lifting his head and wearing his best ‘press smile’. 

“Now,” Mrs Winterhalter began, “For the rest of the term, you’re going to be working on a group project regarding Global Issues and Advocacy. Groups of four with one group of five. You have sixty seconds to find your group, or I will find you a group.”

“We’re going together, right?” Johnny asked Michelle.

“Obviously,” she replied. “We need two more.”

“How about Peter and Ned?” he suggested, noticing Peter looking around the room.

“Sure,” MJ shrugged.

He and Peter did the thing where they communicated through shrugging that everyone seemed to do when finding people to work with, then Peter and Ned moved to sit at the desks in front of Johnny and Michelle’s.

“Hey,” Peter greeted.

“Hi,” Johnny nodded.

“Alright, times up,” Mrs Winterhalter announced. “Everybody got a group? Good. Now, there are four parts to the project. First, I want you to choose which global issue you want to research and address. You have a week to research and write a paper outlining the issue selected, providing an overview of what is being done, making connections to STEM,  and suggest a small scale advocacy campaign that you will be enacting later in the project. You have the rest of class to start work choosing or researching your issue. Get to work.” 

The various groups shifted towards the computers that circled the room. At the terminal they claimed, Michelle sat at the keyboard with the boys around her.

“Alright, anybody got any issues?” she asked.

“Yeah, but I take medication for them,” Johnny giggled. “I’m sorry, that was terrible. But I couldn’t resist. Sorry. Serious face. I can do this. I had a really long night.”

Michelle flicked his forehead.

“You’re an idiot,” she declared, but Johnny could hear the underlying affection.

“Sorry,” Johnny repeated. 

“Why don’t we check out the UN website?” Ned suggested.

“Good idea,” Peter agreed.

Michelle pulled up google and searched _un global issues_. She found a page entitled _Global Issues Overview_ on the UN website and began scrolling down. 

“Anything jumping out?” she asked. “Johnny, if you make another terrible joke, I’m punching you in the balls.”

“Yes ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	3. Interlude 2: Mouse Trap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Phil meets Sue. 
> 
> Pre-series, during Iron Man 2

Phil was a highly trained field agent, with finely tuned senses focused to pick up on anything that could signal danger. Midway through filling a glass of water in Stark's kitchen, said senses started tingling, warning Phil that he was being watched. His hand ready to fly to his gun, he turned quickly and came face to face with a wide innocent-eyed child.

Stark's kid. 

“Hi,” the girl chirped.

“Hello,” Phil nodded.

“What's your name?”

“Agent Coulson,” he replied. 

“Hi Agent, I'm Sue,” she informed him.

“I know,” he smiled. “I've seen pictures of you with your daddy.”

“Pops,” she corrected.

“Sorry?” Phil frowned.

“Pops,” Sue repeated. “He's my pops. My daddy's dead. He died a long, long time ago. He's my pops.”

“Sorry. I've seen pictures of you with your pops.”

“Do you know how to play _Mouse Trap_?” Sue asked suddenly, throwing Phil off for a moment.

“Sorry?”

“ _Mouse Trap_. Do you know how to play?” she asked, picking up a box from behind the counter. She shrugged. “I'm bored. Want to play?”

Phil paused. On the one hand, he was supposed to be watching Stark. On the other, Stark wasn't going to go anywhere without his daughter. That much was blindingly clear. Therefore, being with Stark's daughter seemed like a sensible place to be. 

“Sure,” he agreed. “Let's play.”

Sue grinned. She leaped up onto a chair at the glass dining table and began unpacking the game. 

“So,” she explained, “You roll the dice and move your mouse. If you land on one of these squares, you have to build a piece of the trap and you take a piece of cheese, yeah? Then once the trap is built, if you land on this square, you get to turn the crank to set off the trap. If it works properly, then you trap any mice on that square, got it?”

“I think I can handle it,” Phil smiled. 

“That's what pops said,” Sue nodded sagely. “He lost. Five times straight.”

Phil's mouth twitched as he found to keep a straight face. The great Tony Stark defeated by a kids board game. This he definitely had to share with Natasha. 

“You roll first because it's your first time,” Sue instructed, handing him the dice. 

For being the child of Tony Stark, Sue was a surprisingly engaging child. She was bright and talkative – not really a surprise – but Phil suspected there was mischief hiding in those big blue eyes. She laughed easily, and he found himself quickly warming to her. Clearly she was not the spoiled brat of the rich and famous. 

He was in the middle of moving his own plastic mouse when his cell rang. 

“Excuse me,” he said to Sue. He passed her the dice. “You make your move while I take this.” He pulled the cell from his pocket. “Coulson.”

“Stark showed up at Stark Industries thirty minutes ago,” Natasha's voice informed him.

“What?” Phil exclaimed. 

“You didn't know he broke perimeter?"

“No. I didn't,” Phil gritted his teeth. He was going to kill Stark. He'd thought sticking with Sue was such a safe bet... _Wait_. He turned back to the dining table, but Sue was gone and his plastic mouse was trapped under the cage. He groaned.

“What is it?” Natasha asked. 

“I think I've just been played.”

“I told Stark to go home,” Natasha continued, “But I'm about to fly to New York with Potts.”

“Don't worry,” Phil assured her. “I'll check if he's back, and if not I'll call for back-up and kick his ass personally.”

After finishing the call, Phil turned back to the board game and stared at his trapped mouse. _Well played Stark Junior, well played._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


	4. Outtake 2: Broken Bonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny's plan to drown himself in alcohol gets derailed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This comes from waaaaay back, when it was Gwen Stacy as Tony and Steve's daughter, from The Amazing Spider-man movies. I kinda always wanted to have Johnny in this verse, and just... got rid of the rest of the FF. This was before I started reading FF comics and fic, and - spoilers - discovered that Reed and Sue did, in fact, disappear and Ben and Johnny went their separate ways. Talk about unintentional foreshadowing. 
> 
> Anyway, this was the beginning of Johnny's introduction to this verse. He went on to join the Avengers and - don't ask how this ship came into my head, but I kind of adore it - ended up with Loki. 
> 
> Takes place after the Ultron/Civil War mashup, but in this version, the Avengers split up like they did in the movie as opposed to the set-up in Parallel Lives.

Johnny stared into the bottom of his glass. He seemed to spend his life staring into glasses these days. Whether they contained vodka or scotch or beer, he didn't care. As long as alcohol was involved – the more the better, as far as he was concerned. Anything to make him forget.

He knocked back the rest of his drink – _scotch_ , a tiny voice informed him – relishing in the burn in his throat, before lamenting how quickly it faded. He just wanted to be numb. Anything was better than remembering. 

But.

But.

He didn't want to forget either. Because there had been a lot of good. All the memories of growing up with his sister, watching her transform from the gawky teenager who'd mothered him, to the beautiful young woman who'd promptly stolen the heart of Reed Richards and held it until they day they-

 _Stop_.

His eyes burned, not with alcohol, but with tears.

_Don't go there._

Johnny caught the bartender's attention, pointing to his glass. The bartender sighed.

“I think you've had enough,” he said. Johnny slapped a fifty onto the bar, pointing again to the glass. The bartender shook his head. “Go home.”

“Whatever,” Johnny slurred. 

Using the bar as a support, he fell rather than climbed off of the stool. After a brief pause the world stopped spinning quite as much, and he began to make his way to the door, receiving several shouted insults when he bumped or crashed into other customers. 

It wouldn't be so bad, he reasoned, if Ben hadn't ditched him too. Okay, yeah, they'd never been best buddies. They were too different. But after the trip to space and their powers, they'd developed a closeness, As long as Johnny curbed his more asshole-like qualities, they made it work. Sixty eight percent of the time. Which Johnny thought was damn good odds, considering Ben had once threatened to throw him out of an airlock. But no, Ben had chosen to move away with Alesha. And together they were building a life away from his superpowered past and the losses it had resulted in.

Johnny staggered along the sidewalk. Surely he could find another bar that wouldn't be so precious and actually give him enough alcohol that he could pickle himself into oblivion for a little while. He vaguely registered a girl's voice saying, “Hey, isn't that your dad?” followed by a second girl shouting, “Dad?” but he ignored them. Not like they were talking about him. He wasn't anyone's dad. He wasn't anyone's anything. Not anymore. Once he'd been a friend and a brother and a son. Now, he was nothing.

X

“Oh, mother of God...” Johnny groaned. He pressed his face further into the pillow. “Somebody kill me now.”

“Good morning Mr Storm. It is ten thirty nine am, the weather is clear and the temperature is sixty three degrees,” a British voice announced far too loudly. Johnny yelped in surprise and tumbled out of bed. He crashed into the floor, smacking his head off of the bedside cabinet. Blinking until his vision cleared, Johnny gaped at his unfamiliar surroundings.

“Where the fuck am I?” he muttered. Did he pick up a girl last night? He didn't remember a girl, but then he didn't remember much after being thrown out of that bar. Occupational hazard of being a drunken former superhero. With a groan and feeling every single day of his thirty three years, Johnny managed to stand fairly upright. He wobbled out of the room and down the hall. He probably should've found his jeans, but if he had slept with her, then he had nothing to worry about. Although, thinking about it, the fact he was still wearing his t-shirt, his boxers and his socks kind of implied no sex had taken place. 

He reached a living area and immediately had to squint furiously against the sun streaming through the floor to ceiling windows.

“Well you look like shit,” a voice chuckled. Johnny jumped, spinning far too quickly in search of the voice's owner. He blinked. Then he blinked again. 

“You're Tony Stark,” Johnny exclaimed.

“I know,” Stark smirked. “I'm not the one who looks like he tried to drown himself in booze last night. Well, not today anyway.”

“What am I doing here?” Johnny asked. 

“My daughter found you passing out in the street,” Stark explained. “And you have the fortune of looking extraordinarily like her biological father, so for a minute she thought you were him. She realised you weren't, but still brought you home anyway, incase you drowned in a puddle of your own vomit. Coffee?”

“Huh?” 

Stark held up a full pot of coffee. Johnny's mouth watered.

“Fuck, yeah,” he muttered, falling onto a stool at the breakfast bar. “So, you just let me chill in your place even though you don't know me?”

“Of course not. I had JARVIS run your fingerprints and do a facial recognition,” Stark replied.

“Who's Jarvis?” Johnny asked. He inhaled the whole mug of coffee desperately. Stark chuckled and refilled it before pointing to the ceiling.

“Good morning Mr Storm,” the British voice from his bedroom said again. 

“What the...? I... I'm too hungover for this shit,” Johnny groaned. 

“JARVIS is an AI,” Stark explained. “So. Johnny Storm. The Human Torch.”

“Don't call me that,” Johnny snapped. “I'm not him. Not anymore. Not since-” His throat closed up.

“Not since Chicago?” Stark offered softly. 

“What do you know about it?” he muttered. “I didn't see the Avengers rushing to help.”

“The Avengers didn't exist then,” Stark pointed out gently. “I'm sorry. I know what it's like to lose people.” He handed Johnny a mug of coffee. Johnny gulped it down, welcoming the excuse to avoid talking and the chance to try and shift the knot in his throat. “So what's your plan now?” Stark asked.

“My plan is to drink,” Johnny replied.

“Alcohol and fire. Great mix,” Stark commented dryly. 

“What's it to you anyway?” 

“Just, you know. We have some openings,” Stark shrugged. “On the Avengers. Think about it,” he called, before leaving the room.

Johnny turned to stare at him in disbelief, but Stark was gone and in the doorway was a girl. He recognised her of course. Gwen Stark was hardly an unknown after all these years. Growing up the daughter of Tony Stark meant the spotlight was inevitable, he guessed. 

“Hey,” he nodded. “I hear I have you to thank for last night.”

“It's fine,” she shrugged, sliding into the room. He watched her as she hopped onto a stool two down from him. Her eyes kept flickering to his face, but they never lingered for long. He, however, was staring. Because it seemed like there was something missing from her. Hell, it wasn't like he knew her, had never even met her until ninety seconds ago, but even so, Johnny knew that some of the spark was missing from Gwen Stark. 

“It's Gwen, right?” he said, just to say something.

“Yeah.”

“Johnny,” he supplied. “Johnny Storm. So why did you drag my sorry ass out of the gutter where it belongs?”

“You look like my dad,” she shrugged.

“Oh yeah, Stark said something like that. So, he's not your real dad?”

“He's my real dad, he's just not my biological one,” Gwen replied, and there was something in her tone that made him think of breaking. He had a horrible feeling she was the one breaking. “You look like my bio dad. Except for the hair. He's blond.”

“Like Captain America,” Johnny supplied. Because, dude, it was freaky seeing pictures of Captain America. It was like looking in a more serious and blonder mirror. 

“Exactly like,” Gwen nodded.

Johnny's eyes widened.

“Holy shit, you mean...?”

“Steve Rogers is my biological father,” Gwen explained. “Long story, involving not very nice science experiments that resulted in me living in a lab for the first eight years of my life.”

“Then what happened?” Johnny asked, and dammit but he actually cared about this girl already.

“Pops found me and rescued me,” Gwen said, a small smile gracing her features. “This was before dad came out of the ice. He raised me.”

“Damn. So what about now? I mean, everyone knows that, uh, the Avengers kinda...” Johnny mimed an explosion with his hands. “Where does that leave you?”

“I'm here, with pops, and I never want to see my father again,” Gwen declared.

And Johnny's heart broke for the kid. She looked so lost and alone, and now he could see the same agony in her eyes as he'd seen and failed to recognise in Stark's. Setting aside his mug, Johnny left his stool and staggered the couple of feet to wrap her in a hug, hoping he didn't smell too bad but suspecting he probably did. Showers weren't high on his list of priorities these days.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured. 

“I thought you were him,” she whispered against his collarbone.

“I'm nowhere near that good,” he replied. “I'm a fucking mess.”

“Join the club,” Gwen said with a wet chuckle. Johnny laughed too, even as he realised his own face was wet and held her tighter. And for the first time in five years, he felt a part of himself begin to heal.

X

When he left the shower, Johnny found clean clothes waiting for him. He wondered but didn't dare ask where they'd come from, just slipped them on gratefully. He paused in front of the mirror to stare at his reflection. He was clean now and shaven, but his face still looked face too old for thirty three, thanks to the lines and shadows around his eyes. He looked far too serious to really be him.

Thanks to JARVIS, he found Gwen in a garage that made his jaw drop.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, turning in a circle and drinking in the drool-worthy collection of cars and motorbikes. “Did I die? I did, right? I drowned in a puddle of my own vomit because this, this is heaven.”

Gwen chuckled, sliding out from underneath a Ferrari 599 with a smudge of grease on her cheek.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“You think Stark would adopt me too?”

“You like bikes, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna see mine?” Gwen offered, already leading the way over to the row of bikes. When she indicated to the bright red beauty at the end of the row, Johnny's jaw dropped again.

“No way,” he breathed. “Is that the new Ducati?”

Gwen nodded.

“The twelve ninety nine Panigale S,” she replied. “Twin cylinder, Superquadro engine. Two hundred and five horsepower at ten thousand five hundred RPM.”

“They changed the exhaust system from the old eleven ninety nine, right?”

Gwen nodded.

“Man, I'd love to drive one of these.”

“You can, if you want,” Gwen offered. “I can't drive it on the road yet. Not legally. But we have spare leathers so if you wanted to take her for a spin...”

“Seriously?” Johnny gaped.

Gwen shrugged.

“Sure. But it's my bike, so you have to take me with you.”

“Deal!” he exclaimed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me rambling on tumblr here: [weethreequarter](https://weethreequarter.tumblr.com)  
> 


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